My 61st and, I believe, very best anthology, out now in print and ebook!
Read more about Best Women's Erotica of the Year, Volume 1!
22 very sexy stories by and about women, from authors including L. Marie Adeline and Tiffany Reisz!

I'm beyond excited for the release of Come Again: Sex Toy Erotica, out now!
Nipple clamps, remote controlled vibrators, butt plugs, vegetables, ice and so much more
Visit comeagainbook.com for the intro & table of contents and Q&As with the contributors.Order it now in print and ebook.

Hungry for More: Romantic Fantasies for Women - just published! With stories by Tiffany Reisz, Greta Christina, D.L. King and more. 21 fantasies, from "Kitchen Slut" to a cougar to Craigslist sex to BDSM to bukkake to watching two men get it on, and more!

Submission is totally giving up control to another person. That was how the French writer Albert Camus described it. It didn’t matter that Camus was talking years ago about the Algerian people being very submissive to the colonist Frenchmen.

When I encountered submission in my life, it was of a different sort. Let me go back to a few weeks ago. After getting off work—as a reporter for a daily newspaper—I went to one of my favorite bars, Costello’s, where I saw the mysterious redheaded girl chatting with the bartender. Teddy, the mixologist, was always good for a laugh or two. I sat near the redhead and watched her down shots of bourbon. She was extraordinarily beautiful, with an exotic cocoa face and a body that could bewitch most men and many women.

“I do it because I like it,” the girl laughed. “It’s not about the money. There’s something in my makeup that draws me to it. I still haven’t figured it out.”

Which were the only words I overheard, but they stuck with me. She smelled delicious, incredibly enticing. Her aroma filled the space at the bar, a whiff of foreign cigarettes, face powder, rouge and an aura of expensive perfume. It made my heart beat fast.

Two days later, I was standing outside my building in Midtown. I had just been handed an infant by a total stranger who asked me to hold her baby while she tied the laces on a running shoe. I looked up and saw the mysterious girl smiling warmly at me as I readjusted the baby in my arms. The infant wet on me.

“Water sports, huh?” the girl smirked. “What a pretty picture.”
I shook my head, replying. “She’s not mine. By the way, are you following me?”

The girl laughed gently. She seemed to be eternally happy. Her steps took her away from me to the curb, where she caught a cab. She waved to me from the backseat.

The next time I saw her, it was in the basement of a downtown sex club, and she was hoisted up on this medieval device surrounded by men in suits. Her naked body was trussed up, tied at her waist and at the feet. I was mesmerized by what the men were doing to her; her back was an ugly mess of welts, her buttocks bright red and glowing.

One man reached around her battered body, his fingers going between her legs, dipping inside then lifting them to his mouth to taste her. The other men looked envious.

“I love to discipline young girls,” the man said, turning to me. “Are you a member of the club? I don’t remember seeing you before.”

“A member brought me, I’m just a guest,” I answered, watching the others sniff her citrus female scent like randy bloodhounds.

“And who was that?”

“Hugh brought me down,” I said, seeing the girl trying to glance over her shoulder at me. She recognized the voice.

“Do you like to be disciplined, slave?” another man, with his tie off, asked her.

“Yes, Sir, I do.” The girl stared at her feet.

Without warning, the first man slashed her with a leather whip across the buttocks, not too hard. The girl clearly wanted to yell out, but did not. He leaned toward the girl, stroked her tenderly and put his thick thumb between her pouting, bruised lips. He smiled wickedly at her, reared back and brought the whip down in sharp, stinging strokes. I could tell she loved the pain, the burn and prick of each blow.